In a blink of an eye, two months have passed. It was now summer in Dulin. People switched to thinner clothes, especially ladies, who had their snow-white chests exposed under the sun, unbothered by men's gazes and the marks imprinted by chest binders.
Wutong trees bloomed, casting shadows onto the narrow streets. Not much attention was paid to the sun's heat and the fishy stench, except for passers-by occasionally throwing out complaints about Dulin's drainage system and the hot weather.
At the end of the city's drainage, the Private Prison under the Secret Service Department welcomed another day. The guards, people who had once committed mistakes or were unfavorable to their superiors, often vented their anger and stress of being placed in this hell on the prisoners. Because of that, these ugly pale people would come up with a variety of creative methods, enabling them to relieve their stress while achieving ulterior aims.
The howls of the wind could be heard from the dark underground waterways, along with the occasional gut-wrenching cry. Going through past the dark tunnel, over a river of stinking water and through an archway, the scene brightened into a spacious underground clearing lit by torch-fires, as though it was burning.
"I can't stand this place!" Roment Huga Andeses, Titan Empire's high official of Ministry of Justice, complained lowly.
Rudolf Hoss smiled at his long-time colleague, "Sorry, I don't really want to be here either, but our predecessors just had to build the damned prison at this place!"
"How was the trial?" the high official of Ministry of Justice finally recalled his purpose of coming here.
The Secret Service Officer shrugged, "Almost done!"
"That's good!" Roment sighed. He warily touched his colleague's arm.
"Hey! Don't you think… What I'm saying is … isn't the investigation going a little too fast and too smoothly? I feel like we are nearing success rather easily."
Without giving himself away, Rudolf Hoss curled his lips. "Isn't that good? All this while, His Majesty has been asking me about the shooting incident's progress every day, I've had enough of his saliva on me! Don't torture me anymore!"
"That's not what I meant!" the high official frowned. "You think I would have fewer mistreatments than you? What I'm trying to say is that, is it really the Southern thugs who invoked this incident? Were there not any elements of conspiracy?"
"A conspiracy?" Rudolf halted his steps and looked around. At his side were all his trusted aides. "Sir, let us be frank! Even if there really are conspiracies involved, so what? Now that all witnesses, evidence and the most important testimonies have been settled, my investigation has come to an end. I don't want to trouble you, you know?"
"What do you mean?" Puzzled, Roment looked at the Secret Service Manager.
Bearing a strange expression, Rudolf laughed, "What I meant is that I don't believe that the southern bandits have that much guts. But since evidence is pointing in that direction, I have nothing to say."
The high official was silenced. He understood that he would not be able to probe anything special out of the Secret Service Manager.
"Alright! Since you said it, we'll let it pass!" Roment retreated sensibly. "Let me take the criminal and let's leave this damned place quickly! Oh my god, it's only been so long and I'm close to getting rheumatism again!"
Rudolf nodded, "That's right, that's right! You take the criminal and deal with him however you want!"
The high official stared at the man on the rack in a daze; he did not know how he should deal with this criminal whose human exterior was no longer recognizable. It could be observed that the captured rioter was one of strong will, white bones protruding from below his knees and a burnt stench lingering on his body. "Who is he?" Roment pointed at the prisoner.
Rudolf grunted, "Person-in-charge of the Southern Rebel Army's assassination operation, a convenience store owner, also the largest ordnance distributor of Faran's black market."
"What?" the high official was puzzled.
The Secret Service Manager looked at the prisoner in disgust and nodded affirmingly, "That's right! Relying on the black market to secure funds for the Rebel Army, the war needs money, so do we, and so do the thugs. They plant poppies at some warm secluded valleys in the South, refine opium and trade the opium for food and weapons on the black market."
"Haha! Look, these are the professions undertaken by bandits who claim to be advocates of freedom!" Roment growled.
Rudolf shrugged, "I think these people don't really have a choice. The Southern Army has locked down the mountains and restricted the inflow of resources. If the Rebel Army is to survive, they would have to be independent. They don't have much choice."
"How so?" the high official raised his voice. "They can go die! The God of Light will never forgive them! Hell's gates have long opened for these sinners!"
"I hope so!" Rudolf nodded. "Alright! He is yours!"
Roment rubbed his palms together, "Thank you for your generosity! The Ministry of Justice will treat him well!"
Rudolf and his colleague looked at each other and smiled. They were both highly skilled in the torturing of prisoners.
Kenshin Palace was showered with summer's sunlight yet shaded by greenery. The pillars and ceiling of the palace were radiating heat as well. It seemed that only the balcony, decorated with silk, and the windows had traces of a cool breeze. Even so, summer in Dulin could only be described as depressing.
Alanis opened her eyes slowly, the cotton blanket tangled around her. Despite the thick layers of curtains blocking out the scorching sunlight, the princess' body was drenched with sweat.
Swatting away her cotton blanket, Alanis' matured body was entirely exposed to the air. With some struggling, she pushed her upper body up. Waking moments were the worst! Especially at the legs! Alanis held her ankles and felt as if the searing numbness from her thighs was occupying her every thought.
He's not there! The married princess then realized that the other side of the bed was empty! Alanis sighed in exhaustion, who said that those things could lift your spirits? Alanis cursed lowly, liar! Big liar! Her waist hurt as if it was broken, and it took half a day to regain the senses in her lower body.
The weary princess tackled her pillow, upon which, a male scent lingered! Unconsciously, Alanis smiled softly. She liked the feeling of being a wife and was also charmed by the living patterns of not waking up regularly, or not waking up at all.
"He was so strong!" the princess suddenly recalled the events that had transpired last night or the night before, numerous shadows overlapping each other, the rough pants of a man and the feminine cries of a woman replaying in her ears. Alanis stuffed her face into the pillow, not knowing if she should feel ashamed or fortunate, ashamed by her lewdness, but fortunate for her not-too-late discoveries of the joys of being a woman.
Finally, Alanis pressed on the bell at her bed front, of which its mechanism was buried underground and connected to the outside. Madam Keegan, who had been on standby the whole time, entered the room upon hearing the bell. The housewife of lowly status looked at the princess, now dressed in pajamas. My goodness! Madam Keegan sighed softly; never had she thought she could ever serve a princess of the royalty.
It had been a month since Alanis had first arrived at Kenshin Palace. Other than the few suitcases which were filled with her favorite clothes, she did not bring along any maidservants. According to her words, although she was the hostess of Kenshin, she did not want to interfere in any of her husband's businesses.
"Do you want to bathe, your Imperial Highness?" Madam Keegan courteously stood at the door side, waiting for her master's orders.
"Of course!" Alanis answered weakly. "However, do not call me by such an outdated title 'your Imperial Highness', you can call me ma'am!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Alanis nodded in satisfaction. She wanted to get out of bed but the pain in her legs made her lock her brows.
"Let me help you!" Madam Keegan moved forward, looking at the weak princess with a bright demeanor. "Young couples are all like this, you'll get used to it soon enough!"
"Oh…" Alanis blushed. "Are you joking?"
"Hehe! I dare not!" said Madam Keegan while helping the princess into the spacious washroom. Not long after, the pleasant sounds of running water could be heard.
His Imperial Highness Prince O'Neil sat on the main seat. While sunlight penetrated through the glass house and glowed upon him, everything seemed so vibrant. However, his Imperial Highness Prince was just dully flipping through the newspapers and the various documents sent by the Military Intelligence Bureau early in the morning.
It seemed that this "man who gets injured easily" was recovering rather well; his chest bandages had already been removed a month ago. To this day, there was still news commenting on his life force with people claiming that the Titan clan was a shield created by the Gods.
For him, Alfa III His Majesty had gone out of his way to strengthen the guards. Kenshin Palace now had a cavalry squadron of two hundred knights as his escort. For these loyal knights, Oscar designed a coat of arms, distinctive from that of the Capital Security Division. A shield of the Fierce Tiger of Narcissus was drawn. It seemed that His Highness adored the name his people called him by.
"Good day, your Imperial Highness!"
"Mes!" Oscar beamed at his old friend, "You came at the right timing. Come, have a seat!"
Messier bowed respectfully and proceeded to sit beside his Imperial Highness Prince. He was not really fond of courtesy, especially in times of trouble.
"You have to see this! The Deiss branch just sent this!" with a stern expression, the Head of the Intelligence Analysis Department presented a document stamped with red words.
"Level 1 classification?" Oscar received the document with skepticism. He only made it past the first line when he let out a shocked cry.
"The King of Deiss is dead?"
"That's right!" Messier nodded affirmingly.
Oscar redirected his gaze to the document, "This was … this was signed by Deiss' Branch Director on 6th June which was … four days ago! But is the source reliable? Why didn't we receive any official notification?"
"I'm not sure either!" Messier replied in confusion. "The Deiss branch would never make jokes like this! They must have secured solid evidence before transmitting encrypted data back to the headquarter. I just spoke with a few colleagues, they may not have any sound explanation, but there was one thing which everyone came to agree! That there might very well be big moves by the Deiss on the battlefield!"
Oscar momentarily stunned. He started to search on the dining table.
"This is it!" His Imperial Highness Prince got hold of a document which the Combat Department had sent to the Military Intelligence Bureau. "Wasn't Alan's summer attack progressing smoothly? Could this be … could this be a facade?"
Messier let out a heavy sigh, "It seems like it! Marshall Alan had no choice but to cancel the spring plan due to various factors and focus his offense in the summer plan. However, things are never so simple. The Northern troops sustained huge casualties earlier in the year. Even though reinforcements have entered the scene, they will never be the Deiss Army's opponent, having just recovered just a portion of their strength. At least, not for now!"
Oscar calmed down. He thought that something was missing in the Deiss branch's report.
"What is her Royal Highness Princess Opareal Roulexberg, acting King of Deiss busy with? If her brother has died, she should have immediately succeeded the throne! The Empire's attacks are still continuing, could it be that … the Deiss are worried that the news of the king's passing will waver the troops' resolve?"
Messier shook his head, "Doesn't seem like it, or shall I say, it is just a part of the reason! According to the earlier reports of the Deiss branch, Princess Opareal Roulexberg had been avoiding the heat in her summer palace while the government and military were being put under the control of her husband and the Supreme High Commander respectively."
Oscar's demeanor froze, "Mes! I'm asking … what is Opareal Roulexberg doing?"
Glancing at the Prince's expression, Messier sighed. He knew that his master could never be fooled so easily.
"Your Imperial Highness, one thing … There is one thing still under investigation…"
"Speak! I'm running out of patience!" Oscar hastily cut off the words of the Military Intelligence Bureau Head.
"Okay okay! I'll speak!" Messier scratched his head, "There is evidence showing that acting King of Deiss, Opareal Roulexberg is expecting, and it is only due to her health concerns that she stepped down."
"What is she doing in the summer palace?"
"Weren't you listening? I hear that …"
"Don't use the words 'I hear'!" Oscar yelped softly.
"Alright! Alright! The Deiss branch did not confirm the news' legitimacy, they only mentioned that the possibility of Princess Opareal being pregnant and expecting is high! But there's still one thing requiring our attention. It was rumored within the Deiss Palace that acting King and her husband sleep in separate rooms after marriage, which is why we are doubting the news of pregnancy…"
"Enough!" Oscar waved his arms about. He suddenly thought of Vijdeline in the faraway North, it had been like that once! Could this be the second occurrence? But to Opareal … Oscar knew that he was not as confident on this as compared to his own child with Vij.
"What are you discussing?" the hostess' cheerful voice sounded from the hall.
Baron Messier stood immediately and retreated to the side in respect.
"Good day, your Royal Highness Princess!"
Oscar's expression turned brighter. Remaining seated, he accepted his wife's hugs and kisses.
The graceful Alanis looked as though she'd regained her previous shine. Her dress swept up fragrant breezes when she turned.
"Mes! I've lost count the number of times I told you? Please call me ma'am! And, what are you doing? Quickly, have a seat!" the princess called while pointing at the seat to her husband's right while she was seated to his left.
"Oh … ma'am! This is not right, this makes me …"
"Enough, Mes!" Oscar waved. "This is my home, don't mind the rigid rules, hurry and come sit! We shall enjoy our lunch together! To be honest, I'm dying of hunger but my hostess didn't want to get out of bed, what could I do?"
Alanis blushed and pinched her husband's arm hard.
The trio's lunch was scrumptious. Oscar was ravenous; his appetite since his injuries had been shocking and he seemed to be hell-bent on eating himself into a fatty.
While the roast lamb steak was meant for three, half of it went to his Imperial Highness Prince. He sprinkled a generous amount of Jerusalem artichoke powder onto the crispy lamb steak. On Oscar's dining plate, there was also a considerably large portion of pea puree seasoned with olive oil. Other than that, there were meat cubes cooked with tomato sauce and the attention-stealing shrimp soup with white vinegar.
"Okay!" near the end of her meal, Alanis sighed in satisfaction. She put down her cutlery and turned to her husband who had been eating in silence.
"You should be telling me what happened by now! Your sour demeanor can't be hidden from me!"
Oscar stopped and threw a look at Messier without giving himself away.
"Oh! Ma'am, it's like this!" Messier understood what to do and wiped at the corners of his mouth while talking. "His Imperial Highness Prince and I were just discussing a worrisome matter and according to the sources at hand, Alan's new round of assault on Deiss may face some troubles!"
"Hehe! Is that so?" Alanis smiled knowingly. "Let us start praying! Pray for Marshall Alan and his military operation to not encounter any surprises as the nobles of Dulin are all waiting for the news of Marshall's misfortune!"
Oscar was shocked out of his stupor and looked at his wife incredulously.
With feigned surprise, Alanis met her husband's eyes. "What's wrong? Is that not so?... Even a fool can see that Marshall Alan's political stance will not waver. If the war he himself invoked is to end in defeat, the royalties despising him will surely seize the chance to create trouble, forcing him to step down."
His Imperial Highness Prince and the Head of Military Intelligence Bureau glanced at each other. It seemed that they'd come to some sort of enlightenment.
On the seventy-eighth day following the verification of the Treaty of Afternoon Tea, the Commander of the Guards tore the thin piece of agreement to pieces. On one side of the battlefield, Titan Empire's Northern Army began its advancement towards Deiss' capital. It had been more than a month through the summer attack, but the speed of the Guards' advancement could only be described as that of snails moving.
"Which is saying … Alan never wanted to win!" Oscar finally voiced out his deduction. Messier, who stood at the side, nodded in agreement.
The Military Intelligence Bureau Head recalled the past battle reports and expressed his concerns too.
"At Alborto Fortress ----- Borensberg, the Deiss has set up two troops each consisting of fourteen corps, both backing up each other. It's impossible for Marshall Alan's eight-corps troop to invade the Deiss capital no matter what! I think that… he and Northern Army's encounter will be extremely tragic!"
Oscar chuckled coldly. While he had been distracted by Opareal's news, he had now calmed down completely. So what if Opareal was expecting? She would be the future Deiss King and would no longer have any interactions with a Titan Prince, it would all be a mirage of the past.
"Alan's calculations are very predictable! The attack is fake! The restructuring of the capital is true!"
Alanis looked at her husband questioningly but she was never slow-witted. It only took a while for the sharp-minded princess to fully understand.
"Is Marshall Alan opting to lure out Dulin's enemies with a staged defeat? Not only will these people demolish his position of the Military Affairs Chancellor, they will also doubt his external policies!"
"That's right!" Oscar finished a glass of grape wine and cried out in satisfaction. "Alan's appetite is still that big! Launching new rounds of offenses with the incomplete recovery of the Northern force, it seems that these military risks driven by haste do match the Silver Fox's personality! But Alan has never acted with uncertainties, what could can his aim be if not to restructure the Northern Army! As for the capital …"
Oscar paused. The conversation here on involved Alfa III His Majesty's conspiracy. To speak in front of Alanis meant he would have to reconsider his words.
"The Capital has His Majesty overlooking it. I have been suspecting His Highness would raise a new political storm to eliminate uncertainties among the nobles, and it all seemed to be ready for release upon the news of defeat. Once the news reaches them, Nobles who have suppressed their anger for ages would be triggered and hurl harsh criticism towards the external policies of Marshall Alan and the royal family. By then, His Majesty only has to execute a single crackdown to get rid of gossipers once and for all!"
Alanis nodded lightly, "To sacrifice the lives of your warriors in exchange for a political plot, is it worth it?"
Oscar remained silent and focused on his plate instead. Nevertheless, he was sure that the news of the North's defeat would signify his time to leave this damned place.
"His Highness! Lady Alanis! Sir Baron!??" excited, First Lieutenant Kirk Douglas barged into the glass house.
"What happened?" Oscar put down his cutlery. With glinting eyes, he sized up the sweating officer.
"Hurry and look! It's Paul versus Monia!"
"Oh no!" everyone at the table shook their heads and sighed.
Oscar thought it was dull, "Kirk! Is this even news? Two months! When have Paul and Monia not fought?"
The officer waved, "Your Highness! This is different! Real arms! Monia is serious with Paul!"
"Real arms?" Oscar's eyes bulged in bewilderment. " Didn't they agree to only a fistfight?"
"It started off like that, but Monia is not letting up her fight!" Kirk gestured with his hands helplessly.
"Oh my God!" Oscar and Messier shrieked simultaneously. No one understood the Westland's King of Assassins better than the former, and the Military Intelligence Bureau's Super Agent the latter.
"We need to go see them! There might even be casualties if it comes to the worst case scenario!" Oscar turned to his wife.
Unbothered by the news, Alanis shrugged, "Sure! You should go but I'll pass, I am not fond of fights!" the Princess picked up her cutlery again and seemed to not plan on joining the fun. Actually, Alanis had never told her husband that she was fine with Paul but not Monia. She did not like any part of cold Monia and felt like she'd met the horrifying face somewhere else.
The underground warehouse was the only place for shade during summer. The circular hall with an area of one acre used to be the storage of Kenshin Palace. However, the new host had renovated the spot into an arena before he moved in. The wall lights brightened up the arena while blinding fire cast blood-red shades onto the weaponry arranged on the walls. Blade cuts decorated the floor and gashes could be seen on the stone pillar standing between heaven and earth. It could be easily observed that there had been countless ruthless fights. But it was known that His Imperial Highness Prince O'Neil seldom visited the arena, thus the people reasoned that the King of Assassins meant to leave the terrifying battle marks to demonstrate his battle prowess and to uphold his name.
Paul casually stood amid the arena, a glistening knight sword in hand. The King of Assassins was sizing up his opponent provocatively. Meanwhile, his opponent was in a squatting position nearby, letting out terrifying battle cries.
Monia Amerson was reluctant to admit that the man's abilities exceeded her imaginations and the word "forfeit" was definitely not in her dictionary. She was left with her last ammunition as the previous two had failed to hit her target.
Seriously! How did things turn out like this? Monia sighed to herself, she believed that she'd fired accurately! Was he too fast, or were her reflexes too slow?
The former female soldier steeled herself as she wielded in her hands a short and long rapier respectively. While dual rapiers had been designed for females, Monia had only modified the edges to have blood grooves. Even the veteran Sarlat Drosha frowned upon seeing them.
Along with the woman's cries, the blades cut forward one after another, targeting the King of Assassin's heart and his despicable eyes. Paul slightly turned his body for his knight sword to parry blows from both sides, igniting sparks along the clashing edges. Within the duration of the short-lived sparks, King of Assassins retreated a few steps.
The woman's sight followed her opponent's motions tightly, and her blades seemed to move faster than her neural transmissions. Just as Paul stopped retreating, sharp blades reappeared before him. The short rapier was closing in on his abdomen while his knight sword barely blocked the long rapier's blow.
Once again, Paul stepped backward and seemed to have identified the pillar's location beforehand. The King of Assassins turned abruptly. Borrowing the momentum, he leaped onto the pillar and hurried away.
A shadow fell behind Monia. Without glancing behind, the female soldier cut backward but the long rapier missed and dropped. Monia could not believe her eyes when she saw Paul's feet on the narrow blade.
It happened in a sheer moment! Again, Paul borrowed momentum from the blade, jumped, and kicked Monia to the dark corner.
Almost immediately, the wobbly Amerson flung away her short rapier and whipped out her gun. While the red phosphorus of her nail paint ignited the gun fuse, she got up to aim at her target, only to find that the person now standing in front of her had changed! She barely managed to adjusted the muzzle's direction before the bullet fired and zipped past His Imperial Highness Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette's ear.
"Monia! Enough for the day, keep your guns."
The female soldier got up, kept her weapons as told, and saluted the Marshall with her best posture.
"Oh…" Oscar whined, "Monia! Do not forget! You are not a soldier anymore! And! Never take out your guns unless you're in a pinch, what would the people think of it!"
"Yes, Marshall!" Monia straightened and saluted. Opposite her, Oscar could only shake his head.
"Paul! Come with me!" Oscar grabbed the delighted King of Assassins roughly.
Monia stared hard at Snowstorm but collapsed after one step. It seemed that her fall just now was rather heavy. Sarlat Drosha, Shaw Curlink, Poison Doctor Percy and few other busybodies quickly went up to her. From First Lieutenant Amerson's point of view, for the Super Agent to not reject men's help meant that these were her trusted comrades. Only fellows like Paul were lower than low.
Snowstorm gazed at the limping woman as if he wanted to say something. In the end, nothing came out of his mouth. Oscar noticed hints of concerns in the King of Assassin's eyes. Having gone through similar experiences, His Imperial Highness Prince smiled softly and pulled his old friend away from the shady arena.
"She will be okay, won't she?" Bingo! Paul finally asked after the carriage had started moving.
"She who?" Oscar was flipping through documents and did not even lift his head by an inch.
Paul angrily grabbed the documents away from the hands of His Highness, "Hey! You know who! I'm talking about Monia, would she really be injured?"
Oscar rolled his eyes and retrieved his documents, "Paul, my friend, you are the one who's acting oblivious! Judging from Monia's strong character, she will never show you her weaknesses. Her collapse just shows how serious her injuries are, at the very least, she will have a few broken bones."
"Oh…my God of Light!" Paul trailed away but brought the conversation back on track soon after, "I didn't mean to be so harsh either, but you saw, didn't you? She was really coming for my life! I would be seeing blood if I didn't get serious!"
"That's your business!" Oscar grunted impatiently and now lifted his head. "Old friend, do you … do you like her?"
"Are you kidding me?" the King of Assassins glanced at His Highness arrogantly.
"You know I'm not!" Oscar gave a hard, serious look at Paul, who was in a daze. "You do like her, but at the same time you couldn't express yourself accurately, so you chose a more aggressive means to conquer her, or maybe you were trying to attract her…"
"Enough of you!" after cutting off the Prince's words impatiently, he realized his foul mood was getting the better of him.
"Hehehe!" with ill intentions, Oscar laughed. "Paul, we've known each other for seven years, I do think I have the rights to comment on this matter. You've fallen for my Military Intelligence Super Agent, don't even trying denying!"
"I do not! The person I like is Annie! But you're not letting go!" Paul stared back stubbornly.
"Fine!" Oscar replied with disdain, "I admit that you like Annie but you've become tamer than the Persians' longhair cat in front of her. This is not love, it's a form of admiration. As for Monia? Do you know what you did? For the two months Monia has stayed in Kenshin Palace, you've fought with her every single day! From what I see, Paul, you are doing nothing but demonstrating your masculinity to the female you like!"
Paul was getting a little furious, "Hey! Do you have to describe me as a beast?"
Oscar shrugged, "I was just attempting to analyze your thoughts with zoology."
"You can go to hell!" the King of Assassins almost failed to contain himself.
Again, Oscar let out an infuriating laugh, "Dear old friend, how else do you want me to say it? Do you want me to propose to Miss Monia Amerson in your stead? Although she will be a great wife, still …"
"What?" Paul cut the Prince off. "She will be a great wife? What is your statement based on? I only know that Monia Amerson is an extremely lethal gunner."
Oscar gave Snowstorm a huge eye roll. "Whatever! I don't believe that you have zero plans for your future!"
"Future…"
Sasha E. sighed in frustration. Never had she felt so depressed and confused. Future? A mere mention of this word at this timing could throw her off!
"Father! To be honest, I'm not sure! I don't have the slightest idea! Where is my future? Even the God of Light may not be capable of answering this question!"
Duke Dortmund Andrew Nedgabel caressed his daughter's hair affectionately. He knew that Sasha's young heart could not bear such a burden.
"Sasha, I'm not forcing you but the situation at hand is like this, you need to consider your future! In fact … you have nothing but two options," Duke Andrew paused his caressing and faced his daughter sternly. He understood that this was not the time to be gentle.
"One, follow the family back to Narcissus Country and free yourself of Dulin. Two, remain by your brother's side, to endure indifference and ridicule!" Duke revealed the truth without holding back. He saw tears pooling in his daughter's eyes.
Sasha was so lost. Her rationale told her that following her family back home was the wiser choice as her brother already had a wife. Furthermore, her sister-in-law was of noble status. Continuing to stay with her brother would only bring her ridicule and disregard as the people would perceive her as the Prince's mistress. But Sasha's dream had yet to shatter; she still strongly believed that her brother loved her. As long as Oscar treated her as usual, nothing would be unbearable.
"Father! I'm sorry!" the Young Lady made up her mind.
Dortmund sighed. He saw her answer coming but still shed tears of pity for his beloved daughter.
"Sasha! You don't need to apologize! Oscar should be lucky to have your love! I am proud of you! You have become much braver than before!"
Sasha smiled helplessly. Brave? What was the compliment based on? She didn't have the faintest idea of how to face the future.
"Father, I've realized … I can't leave Oscar! Neither a minute nor a second! Am I useless?"
"How are you useless? You've always been a girl who needs affection!"
"Father!" Figg Andrew Tibotty suddenly barged into the small guest room, "My goodness! Did you make Sasha cry? Oscar's carriage is right outside the residence. When he enters later, he will be complaining!"
Upon hearing that, Sasha quickly wiped her tears dry. Duke Andrew rose from his seat as well.
"Is Oscar already here?"
"Yes! " Figg nodded at his father.
Dortmund turned to his daughter, "Sasha, you can return to your room!"
Young Lady knowingly retreated as she understood that the men needed to discuss matters of high importance.
"Good day!" just as Sasha disappeared from the door, Oscar's bright voice sounded from the guest hall.
Donning the same uniform as his father, the young Marshall stood perfectly straight, his belly hidden under the belt securing his Marshall sword.
"Ah … you're here! Come, my boys, have a seat!" Duke Andrew gestured towards his sons.
Figg and his younger brother looked at each other helplessly and moved to sit before their father.
"Look! I've brought you the official authorization letter from His Majesty and Titan's Grand Bishop," said Oscar while taking out a document. "This document consists of two copies. This copy is for you, whereas the other being kept by the Imperial Security Division. Which means, from now on, the military operation of the Narcissus Knights is perfectly legal!"
"Alright! Now show me the troublesome tasks you've assigned your family!" the Narcissus Knights' Commander received the document of the highest order and threw it over to Figg after just two glances.
"Honestly, why are you in such a rush to mobilize the family's armed force to attack Persia? This has been questioned several times by the staff officers back in home base, as they do not think that it is a good time for an invasion at the moment," General Figg looked at his brother with doubts.
"Don't just question. What do you think?" Oscar flung the question back to his brother.
Figg shrugged in indifference. However, his face, previously scarred by a machete, was now overtaken by ferocity, "I don't have any views, I only know that hitting the Persians once in a while is absolutely necessary!"
It was a rare occurrence for Duke Andrew to not lecture on his second son's misbehavior. Instead, he nodded in agreement.
"That's true!" Commander of Narcissus seemed to have decided. "Persian's civil war has severely destroyed the nation's productivity. The private armies of the Great Kings from the borders often harass our cities, they are robbing us of our resources!"
Oscar nodded, "It seems that my guess is correct, the Persians have long fought in factions. Their wealth is drying up day after day and as well as their population is outflowing. Is this not the best time to attack?"
Dortmund shook his head in disagreement, "Not yet! The best time is when the Persians voluntarily invite us to intervene in their conflict!"
"You must be joking!" Bewildered, Oscar's eyes bulged. "Are you saying that Persians will come to request assistance from their nemesis???"
"Correct!" Duke Andrew laughed. "My children, your understanding of the Persians is indeed still shallow indeed. Persia is what we call the land in Central East whereas Persian Empire is the name we attached to the multiracial nation. It was said that the Persian Empire consisted of more than four hundred races, all of whom were united by the power of religion. In the recent years, as the civil war escalated, many small clans have sought for Andrews' protection! These clans were oppressed by Persian nobles in the past and were always seeking for chances of for resistance! The home base has proposed that we wait for the bigger clans to cry for help before launching our attack on Persia!"
"I understand!" Oscar finally got the idea. "Special warfare! Isn't this the concept brother proposed? To utilize the sentiments of small and medium Persian clans to our advantage! This is definitely a great idea, but we have no more time to waste! If we don't want to fall on the royal family's bad side, we have to keep ourselves occupied for the meantime!"
"I get your meaning too!" Dortmund waved at his son. "Alfa III's sure has a limit to his patience, just look at how he dealt with the Ministry of Senior Nobility and you will know! If we don't feign loyalty, he will surely take more drastic measures against our family."
"To be frank … this is not what I'm worried about! The royalties can never hide their plans from me so I will work against the disadvantages he created for our family," Oscar said cautiously, "I'm just thinking about your unpleasant trip to Dulin. What internal impacts will it have on our family?"
Duke Andrew fell silent. What a great question! Would the family's internal conflict escalate or diminish? Before returning to the base, he found it difficult to answer.
At that moment, Figg suddenly grinned. It seemed that he had understood.
"Didn't younger brother already considered this question when he was developing this strategy? The East's advancement can temporarily cool down the family's internal conflicts regardless of our knights' thoughts! Once they get the bugle call to charge, nothing else matters to them! There are times when the brains of these guys are simpler than that of a child, giving them some hardships doesn't do any harm either. With their spare energy, just let them vent on the Persians!"
"But we can't deny one fact!" Duke Andrew knocked on the table. "Internal conflicts within the family exist one way or another! What the advancement does is only softening the conflict's external impacts and this problem will be exposed one fine day! We can always cleanse the stubborn and dangerous members. However, we can never curb the spread of conservatism and extremism."
Oscar sighed, "Is there no better option than cleansing?"
Figg and his father shook their heads.
The young Prince held his head in distress. He never wanted to resort to violence and dirty tricks whenever it concerned his family. In the depths of his heart, he prayed to God to not have to act against his wishes in the future. If things were really like what his father and brother have said, he was left with no choice. The end result would be the one he hated the most!